


What's Mine Is Yours

by HalfshellVenus



Series: Paradise [12]
Category: Prison Break
Genre: Community: fanfic100, M/M, Male Slash, PWP, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 03:12:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4331580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalfshellVenus/pseuds/HalfshellVenus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PWP fun, set in the “Paradise” post-escape universe. Established relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's Mine Is Yours

**Author's Note:**

> Late birthday present for [](http://certainthings.livejournal.com/profile)[certainthings](http://certainthings.livejournal.com/), who lifts my day up at the most unexpected times. Also for [](http://fanfic100.livejournal.com/profile)[fanfic100](http://fanfic100.livejournal.com/), where I have the slash pairing of Lincoln and Michael. This is for prompt #19, “White.”

x-x-x-x-x

Michael could hear Lincoln rustling around in the bedroom while he fixed breakfast in the kitchen.

“Michael, do I have any clean shirts?” Lincoln called out.

“I don’t know— do you?” Michael said with a hint of a smile. “It’s your turn to do laundry.”

“Well, crap. Too late now.”

The dresser drawer slammed and Michael gave the eggs a few stirs. “You can wear one of mine— take your pick.”

“Yours are all too small— they’re too tight,” Lincoln came up behind him. _Exactly,_ Michael thought, keeping his face where Lincoln couldn’t see that smile growing bigger.

“Fine.” Lincoln grumped back off to the bedroom, and returned a minute later. “God, I look ridiculous.”

Michael turned and just stared, his mouth suddenly dry. Lincoln had chosen a basic white t-shirt, which was clinging to every muscle and ridge as if it were soaked onto him. “Not the word I’d have used,” Michael muttered, already moving in and running his hands over everything that shirt was flaunting. “ _God,_ this is hot,” he moaned, and Lincoln smiled for the first time that day.

“What, me wearing your clothes?”

“It’s the _way_ you’re wearing them.” Michael stroked Lincoln’s chest, sweeping his thumbs over the nipples just to make Lincoln gasp, and then he slid down and lifted the shirt up, rubbing his face into Lincoln’s stomach and kissing, mouthing, licking.

Lincoln staggered a little under the force of Michael’s attention, and a sizzling sound drew his eyes to the stove. “The eggs are burning,” he said.

“Fuck ‘em,” Michael responded, and _Whoa_. That was a _very_ good sign. Lincoln quickly reached over and turned off the burner as Michael began unbuckling his pants. He nuzzled Lincoln through his underwear, then pulled it down and just pounced.

“Ohhh,” Lincoln groaned, weaving under the onslaught of everything Michael was doing. _So good… so good._ His legs were shot already. He brushed Michael’s cheek, backing him off long enough to get down on the floor, and Michael grabbed the opportunity to get Lincoln’s pants the rest of the way off. Starting again, he took his time with it and let his tongue tease up and around, his hands moving across and down Lincoln’s hips. Michael squirmed a little, trapped uncomfortably in his shorts, and Lincoln’s head lifted at the movement.

“C’mere,” he said.

Michael stopped briefly. “I’m busy right now— can you get back to me later?”

Lincoln laughed. “You can keep on doing that— I only need the bottom half of you anyway.”

This was new.

Michael swung his legs around and reversed his angle on Lincoln as his brother pulled him closer and rolled him up on his side. Michael’s shorts were unzipped, opened and pushed down slightly, and then _Oh god._ His head rolled back for a moment, and then Michael picked up where he had left off.

Every move he made, every flick and swirl, every increase in suction and pressure, was echoed by his brother in an all-absorbing feedback loop of desire. He was lost in the illusion of sucking himself off, just so _twisted_ and kinky and hot, and _god_ — he was over the edge before he knew it. He moaned and thrust as he came, with those sounds and vibrations jolting a wave of raw lust through his brother. “Oh, yeah!” Lincoln yelled out, and Michael fought off the urge to laugh and just kept on going. Lincoln was gasping against his lap then, stubble grazing the inside of his thigh, and that was such an unexpected turn-on that Michael vowed to try that out on its own later.

Michael licked and kissed everything into quiescence, then moved up to join his brother.

“You killed me,” Lincoln said. “God, I can barely move…”

“What made you think of trying that?” Michael asked.

Lincoln tried to catch his breath. “Used to like that with— some of my girlfriends. Thought it… could be really good with you.”

Michael appreciated that Lincoln hadn’t mentioned any names. He’d seen too many women come and go throughout his brother’s life, and he really didn’t want any details attached to any of them.

“Why are we doing this in the kitchen all the time?” he wondered aloud.

Lincoln laughed. “This is where it starts, and then we just never make it to another room. Why, does it bug you?”

“No.” Michael leaned in to kiss those teasing lips. “Just seems a little odd.”

“Hmmm.” Lincoln pulled him closer. “I really like this kitchen. I like it better all the time. This is what it’s all about right now.”

“What is?”

“Eating, sleeping, fucking. God, this is the life. Maybe it’s Heaven.”

“It’s not Heaven,” Michael mumbled. “If it was, I wouldn’t be paying rent on this house.”

Lincoln’s arms folded around Michael, holding him tightly. “Okay, maybe not, but even so— it’s close enough for me,” he said.

There was something so simple and true in that statement. Really, Heaven was anything you made it.

 _Me too,_ Michael thought. _Me too._ And he curled up in the strength of his brother’s love.

 

_\----- fin -----_


End file.
